


The Arrangement

by redbuttonhole



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, And Moriarty has better ideas, But John is Straight, M/M, Pining Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock is Pining for John, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 08:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19438072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbuttonhole/pseuds/redbuttonhole
Summary: Have some Sheriarty boarding school AU!  John is on the swim team.





	The Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RageSeptember](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RageSeptember/gifts).



> This is really just a fragment, but I found it sitting on my hard drive from years ago, decided to just finish out the conversation and post as is. Why not? 
> 
> for keeloca, who ages ago asked me very nicely to post more sheriarty.

The view of the swimming pool is perfect. From here, Sherlock can survey the scene at his leisure, unremarked by the athletes below. The cavernous room echoes with the reverberations of bare limbs striking the water’s surface. 

“I wondered how long it would take you to find this spot.”

Sherlock startles at a voice behind him. _Stupid_ , he thinks. Normally he is so observant, the idea of him failing to notice someone else up here on the spectators' platform is unthinkable. But then, he was distracted. 

“Moriarty,” he says simply, without turning around. It’s a small school, and the boy’s Irish lilt is easy to identify, when he doesn’t disguise it.

“Holmes,” the other boy replies, a bare hint of laughter in his voice as if the name itself were a joke. "Or should I say, The Virgin Holmes. That’s what the lads call you, isn’t it?“

"You should know,” says Sherlock tightly. “You coined the moniker, and coerced the rest of the school into following your lead.”

“Didn’t take much coercion, luv. They were already calling you the Ice Princess, but I thought that was too much like your big brother." Moriarty briefly assumes a bright Oxfordshire accent: 'Virgin Holmes, only cares about his studies, that one!' People think it’s unfriendly, you know – when you won’t let anyone have a go. Not very public spirited of you.”

“I suppose that’s what you are… 'Public spirited'. Would possibly explain _your_ nickname. Or didn’t you know?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Jimmy Rimjob.” Sherlock reveals this recently assimilated bit of knowledge as viciously as possible, but Jim only giggles in response. He takes a few steps closer, until Sherlock can feel his breath on his ear.

“You think I’ll be offended by that?”

“You should be. It doesn’t surprise you to know that you’re notoriously the biggest slag in school?”

“Darling, how could it surprise me? I was there for all of it. Besides, who do you think started the name?”

At last, Sherlock turns to face him. "You?" he says, puzzled. "But why--"

Moriarty raises his eyebrows suggestively. Sherlock pointedly ignores him.

"How did you know I'd be here?"

Moriarty answers with a peal of musical laughter. "Where else would you be? You may think you've kept yourself hidden, but you're as plain as day to me. Sherlock."

Sherlock shivers a bit at Moriarty's unwarranted familiarity. No one at school uses first names--even John still calls him Holmes, and Sherlock's never dared call him anything but Watson aloud, no matter what name he uses in his head.

"John Watson," announces Moriarty as if reading his mind. "Famous heterosexual." He smiles. "Loves the ladies, that one. Lets everyone know it. You arranged to room with him this year," he recites in a casual tone. "You were sick of all the _perverts_ at this school trying to get a leg over. Watson at least would leave you to your beloved test tubes."

"You're a fine one to be calling people names," Sherlock bites out.

"'Pervert'?" replies Moriarty, faintly surprised. He grins disarmingly. "I didn't mean it in a bad way."

Sherlock snorts, and Moriarty continues.

"But your little plan backfired, didn't it? You fell in _love_ ," he says with a sigh, his head cocked in ironic sympathy. "And now the only boy you'd offer that arse to--" here, Moriarty accents his remark with a sudden swat to Sherlock's posterior. Sherlock jumps in alarm, mortified mostly that he didn't see it coming "--is the only one who isn't interested." Sherlock sets his jaw in reply, while Moriarty gives him big, brown puppy-dog eyes. "So sad. So everyday, you sneak up here to watch him swim back and forth, _back_ and _forth_ , _back_ and _forth_ , _back_ and _forth_ , _back_ and _forth_ in those _tiiiiiiiiiiiny_ little trunks. Like the creep you secretly are." Here, Moriarty's expression shifts to one of sly admiration.

"Fine," says Sherlock, not bothering to deny it. "What's any of this got to do with you?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all." Moriarty laughs gently, a mere puff of air. "I just thought you might be interested in a little arrangement."

"Forget it. I'm not going to... to _fool around_ with you," Sherlock declares, perhaps a little more forcefully than he meant to.

Moriarty stares at him, so dark and so long that it becomes a bit unnerving.

"Boring, _Sherlock_ ," he snaps at last, catching Sherlock off-guard. Sherlock can't help it: he flinches a little. "Of course I know _that_ . Weren't you paying attention?" Moriarty shakes his head and grimaces in disappointment. "But Golden Boy John Watson is never going take an interest in you with all that.... _pining_ and _sighing--"_ he acts out these activities in a grotesque pantomime--"and playing sad songs on your vio--"

"Enough," Sherlock interjects sharply. Moriarty looks pleased. "What exactly is it you're suggesting?"

Moriarty sighs and raises his eyes to a point somewhere above Sherlock's head, as if pained by having to explain something so obvious."Haven't you ever even seen a movie, Sherlock? We're going... to make... him jealous," he overannunciates. "We'll... _pal around_ , as they say. Get caught sneaking in after curfew." Moriarty shrugs modestly. "Given my reputation, it won't take much for people to draw their own conclusions."

"And what would you get out of this... arrangement?"

Moriarty doesn't answer right away. Then he lifts his chin and sets back his shoulders, as if to project a confidence he doesn't quite feel. "A study partner."

"A _what_?" More than anything else he's said, this takes Sherlock by surprise. Moriarty's marks are not the worst in the class, but he's made it more than clear he's not interested in school work.

"The Masters here are all boring and stupid," Moriarty grouses, and Sherlock can't find much to disagree with in that assessment. "But you. You're... interesting." Sherlock feels himself flush up with a strange pleasure. " _Sometimes_ ," adds Moriarty, softening the compliment. "And you're smart. And maybe I have one or two projects we could work on. Together."

Sherlock watches Moriarty's face carefully, but for once his expression is difficult to read.

"I could get into a lot of trouble, hanging around with someone like you," he says.

Moriarty smiles sunnily. "You like trouble," he declares. "You just don't know it yet."

Sherlock considers this statement, and finds it acceptable. "All right," he says, wondering if he'll come to regret this. He puts out his hand, and Moriarty grasps it with a strange, giddy grin. "Partners."


End file.
